Those Who Can't
by Crystal Sampson
Summary: Sam takes a job as a college counselor for a hunt. He might actually like doing this gig.


**Summary: **Sam takes a job as a college counselor for a hunt. He might actually like doing this gig.

* * *

"Check this out," Sam said, spreading a paper out over the table where Dean was nursing his coffee. Dean snatched his mug up to keep it from being covered and scowled down into the dark drink as he took another sip.

"What," he snapped.

Sam paused at the tone. Dean had been waspish for nearly a week now and Sam couldn't begin to guess what he'd done this time. There was still the frission of distrust between them, too much had happened in the last few years for there not to be, but they had been getting better. Sam bit back a sigh and plowed ahead. "Four kids have gone missing from Mission, South Dakota. All between the ages of 16 and 19, and all from the same area. Disappearances seem to happen during broad daylight."

"And?"

"And what?" Sam snapped back, quickly losing his patience. "We've been twiddling our thumbs for ages. This sounds like a case to me."

Dean grunted and took another sip of his coffee. "Or it's a serial kidnapper who gets his jollies off on taking kids. Something for the police to handle, since they don't seem to be able to handle anything else."

"Did I mention the one eye witness seems to think it was a zombie football player?"

That got Dean's attention. His head snapped up and he squinted at Sam as though he might be playing a trick. "So the witness is a little off his rocker."

"Or we're dealing with a something supernatural."

Dean's eyes lit up. "Maybe it's finally zombies!"

Sam rolled his eyes, but started to fold up the paper. "When has it ever actually been zombies?" When Dean didn't deign to answer, Sam pressed on. "So, worth looking into?"

Dean shrugged. "Why not. Nothing better to do."

They paid for Dean's coffee and the sandwich Sam had barely nibbled and loaded into the Impala. They pulled into Mission around ten that evening and made short work of checking into the Rosebud Motel. Sam didn't waste any time in pulling out his laptop and beginning his research.

Dean barely glanced at his brother as he collected his wallet and walked out of the room. Sam watched the door close behind him and let out the sigh he'd been holding in all afternoon. Dean was trying. Sam was trying. The whole damn lot of them were trying, and it was wearing Sam thin. Dean still didn't trust him, and Sam didn't blame him. The air between them was like taut wire. Sam worried that it wouldn't take much for it to snap.

He shook his head and went back to work. Dean would stumble in sooner or later and in the morning they'd go back pretending they were fine.

_._

_Sam sat staring out the window at the sunny lawn of his newest high school. He'd hidden in the very back of the stacks where he wasn't likely to be found. He'd fallen asleep at one point and was too lazy now to get up and go to class. Besides the period was already half over anyway. _

_Sam huffed and sank further down in the chair he'd claimed until a hand came down on his shoulder. He jumped up and whirled, fists coming up automatically in self-defense. He dropped them a moment later when he realized it was just the guidance counselor. He'd met her briefly when he toured the school._

_He dropped his head and made to collect his bag. "Sorry," he muttered. He must be the biggest freak around._

_As he settled his book bag on his shoulder, she stepped to block his path. "Wait, Sam. I wanted to talk to you."_

_Sam risked glancing up at her. She was wearing the oddest expression, not quite angry, not quite sad. Sam stepped around her and said, "I have to get to class."_

_The counselor didn't flinch. Instead she fell in next to him as he walked. "Don't worry about that. I had wanted to find you during lunch. I have some paperwork for you. Just a couple of odds and ends to get you settled in. I'll write you a pass for your class."_

_Sam paused. At least he wouldn't be in trouble for skipping. Dean always had to do pull ups if he got caught ditching class unless it was for a hunt. He shrugged but allowed himself to be guided to the woman's office. _

.

The next morning found them outside Todd County High staring as a hoard of teenagers piled into the building. Sam flipped to the page he'd been taking notes on last night and summarized. "All the kids attended the same school. All disappeared from the field behind the gym. One grounds keeper claims to have seen one of the students being abducted but couldn't give a reliable description. All of them happened during the school day, usually in the afternoon."

"Did you turn up anything about the school?"

"No, the whole thing looks squeaky clean. No reports of hauntings or supernatural activity. No previous history of violence."

"So what were you thinking?"

"I'm not sure yet," Sam said. He thumbed through a few more pages before he added, "There was a posting for a guidance counselor. Might be worth going undercover. Sounds like whatever is happening is happening at the school. Only one open spot though."

"Guidance counselor?" The doubt in his voice was palpable. "Like a teenager shrink?"

"Like a college counselor. You know, prepping students to get into college."

"No other way in?"

"I mean, without looking like creeper pedophiles? I haven't found anything. You have a better idea?"

Dean stared at the building for a minute before finally shaking his head. "Nope. Means we'll have to split up. One takes the emo teenagers, one takes witnesses and research."

They stared at each other for half a second, before they jumped into a furious game of rock-paper-scissors. Sam blinked as Dean threw paper to his rock. It took Dean a second to register what had happened too. Then a Cheshire grin spread across his face and he let out a little whoop. "I beat you! Finally! I call witnesses!"

Sam groaned and cast one last look up at the school while Dean did a celebratory little dance in his seat.

.

Sam picked at the collar of his button up and shifted uncomfortably in the hardback chair across from Principle Howard. The man was short and affable, sporting a bushy mustache that he occasionally caught between his lips. He was dark with a heavy accent that Sam couldn't quite place, but that softened and stretched out his vowels as he spoke.

"So Mister Wilson,"

"Sam, please."

"Sam. What made you want to be a college counselor?"

Sam smiled back at him, trying not to feel like a freshman called into the principal's office. "My family moved around a lot when I was a kid. I struggled because I was never really in one place long enough to build my academic resume. When I was a junior, I had one counsellor who really took me aside and helped me figure out what it would take to get me into a good school. She's the reason I made it to college at all. I wanted to be able to do that for someone else."

"That must have been exciting, to be moving around as a kid."

Sam shrugged. "I suppose. I didn't appreciate it much at the time."

The principal nodded sagely. "We all think we know best when we're fifteen."

Sam laughed a little. "Yes."

Principal Howard glanced down at the paperwork in front of him. "When were you hoping to start?"

"As soon as possible."

"We just started the school year. It's highly unusual, but with our current counselor due for maternity leave soon, you have really good timing. It'll give you enough time to get in and get trained before she has to leave us in October. This would be strictly temporary, you understand."

"I gathered from the ad."

"Then welcome aboard, Sam." The man's mustache twitched as he smiled.

"Really?"

"Really. I'll call Linda down and introduce you."

Sam beamed. "Thank you! That would be great."

_._

_He set his bag on the floor by the hardback chair where he sat across from the counsellor. She shuffled some papers around before she finally produced a file and flipped it open. "I admit, it's rather thinner than usual. I don't seem to have a lot of information about you on file. I'll need you to fill out a couple of things." She passed him a handful of papers on a clipboard and he glanced over them. Most of them were the basic enrollment forms and medical history information. It was all information he could recite in his sleep at this point. As he worked, the counselor, Helen Albrite according to her name plate, went about filing papers in the cabinet that sat next to her desk. _

_When he clicked the pen and laid the clipboard on the desk, she smiled at him. "All done? Excellent." She came back around to sit across from him. "Now then, I noticed we don't have any grades on file for you or even any notes from your last school. Did they by any chance give you a copy of your transcript before you left?"_

_Sam shrugged. _

_Ms. Albrite frowned. "Would your father have copies? It's very important that we have all your information so we can place you in the proper classes."_

_Sam huffed. "No, he doesn't have copies."_

_She faltered, but her smile recovered a moment later. "Don't worry, I can contact your last school – Harper High School?" She paused for him to respond but he just waited for her to continue. "They'll be able to send over the records." _

_Sam shrugged again and stood. "Can I go back to class?"_

_Her frowned tightened. "No," she said in a clipped tone. "We're not done. Sit down, Sam."_

_Sam flopped back into the chair. "What?"_

.

"So," Ms. Rodriguez said. "You're the new counselor, huh?"

Sam smiled tentatively, taken back by the woman in front of him. She barely crested 5 foot tall and had a stocky build. Her very large belly preceded her into rooms, and she leaned back a little as though the weight of the baby threatened to tip her forward at any moment. When she scowled at him, Sam had no doubt she would take him down without a second thought.

"Yeah," Sam said, holding out his hand. "Sam Wilson."

She looked him up and down without bothering to shake his hand. "Well Sam Wilson, I hope you're tougher than you look."

Sam laughed. "Don't worry about me. I can hold my own just fine."

"That's what the last one said too."

"The last one?"

"Gloria Hinerman. Said she could handle anything we threw at her. She lasted a week."

Sam had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from laughing. Anyone who willingly worked with teenagers with a name like Hinerman was probably a little cracked anyway. When he found his composure, he said, "My father was a marine. If your students can throw anything half that crazy at me, I'll be impressed."

She humphed. "Well, I warned you." She turned and started a quick waddle down the hall, still leaning backwards so that Sam was afraid she might fall. "Come on then," she called back down the hall without stopping.

Sam jogged to catch up with her and fell into step beside her.

Later that night, Sam collapsed into the rickety motel bed. The springs squawked in protest as he bounced from the impact. "How'd it go?" Dean asked, still flipping through the limited television channels.

Sam groaned and rolled over on his side, still in his shoes.

"Got the job then?"

"Yeah," Sam said half rolling back over. "I got the job. How long until I can quit?"

Dean snorted. "Faster we sort this one, the faster we can skip town."

"Yeah, yeah."

"I thought you'd enjoy being surrounded by people with your level of angst."

"High school was evil the first time around. Who'd willingly go back?"

"You liked school."

"I liked learning. I hated high school. It was-"

"Yeah, yeah," Dean said heavily. "Don't get started on that again."

Sam just shrugged and rolled back over. He was half asleep when Dean pointed out, "You're wrinkling your pants."

With a huff, Sam stood and stripped. Once he'd found something a little more comfortable he climbed into the bed and passed out.

His alarm went off at 4am. Sam groaned, not bothering to silence it. He just laid in the bed wondering why this was his life. 4 o'clock was only an hour or two past his normal bed time. No one should be awake this early.

In the next bed, Dean grunted and rolled over. "Turn that damn thing off or I'll shove it up your ass."

Sam smacked the alarm, not particularly caring if he had hit the snooze or had actually turned it off. He scrubbed his hands across his face and sat up, working up the will to stumble to the bathroom and shave.

.

"_We are going to have us a little chat. Now lose the attitude or we'll talk about why you weren't in class when I found you." Ms. Albrite's tone had gone hard as steel. He had absolutely no trouble believing that she could be every bit as ornery as John Winchester in a snit._

_Sam frowned but sat up a little in his chair. Ms. Albrite seemed to collect herself. Her smile returned, even if it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Now, I have this chat with all my students every year. While normally we go over your academics to start, we'll skip that for today. I like to get to know my students." _

_Sam shivered at the thought of someone sticking their nose in his home life. This was shaping up to have been a really bad idea. _

"_I am curious about your plans for the future."_

"_What do you mean?" Sam asked startled. "Like what classes I'm taking next year?"_

"_No, I'm thinking more along the lines of whether you want to go to college and what career paths you've been considering."_

_Sam smiled tightly. "No offense, ma'am, but I don't really have a lot of options."_

_She stared at him for a long moment. "Why ever not?"_

"_I'll be going into the family business full time when I'm old enough."_

"_What's the family business?"_

"_Extermination," Sam said, keeping his voice as neutral as possible._

"_Ah," she said. "And do you want to be an exterminator?"_

_Sam shrugged. "It doesn't have a whole lot to do with what I want. It's the family business. My dad and brother depend on me to do it."_

_She sat back in her chair and stared at him. Sam squashed down the urge to squirm under her gaze. Finally, she broke the tense silence by saying. "All the same, I want you to think about what you'd do if you could do anything you wanted."_

_Sam frowned. What difference did it make? He could say he wanted to be the president of the United States and it wouldn't mean anything. He'd still be destined to be a hunter. That was the only thing in his future. After all, Dean and Dad depended on him to help keep them safe and a whole lot of innocent people lived because of them. It didn't do any good dreaming up what ifs and maybes. He'd just end up disappointed. _

_She seemed to sense where his thoughts were. "You don't have to give me an answer today. Just think about it. We'll talk again on Friday. Meet me here during your lunch period." She picked up a fuzzy green pen a scrawled a note on a sheet of her stationary. "Give this to Mr. Gordon before you leave for the day."_

_Sam grabbed the note and made a hasty retreat from the room._

.

Sam took his new job seriously. Even knowing it was all for a hunt and they'd be leaving as soon as they solved the case, he couldn't in good conscious not at least try for these kids. What he'd told the principle had been true. Ms. Albrite had probably been the main reason he made it to college at all. He'd been in a pretty dark place when he was fifteen. Or at least it seemed like one then. He'd all but given up on having his own life and had been getting reckless on hunts. All it would have taken was one little push and he'd have been over an edge. Ms. Albrite had given him a purpose and convinced him there could be more to his life than the horror flick he'd been caught in.

He'd been digging for days. The inanity of the discussion in the staff room most days was more than he could bear. If it hadn't been for the fact that there were kids' lives hanging in the balance, he'd have hidden in his office most of the time. It was, however, a great source of information regarding the ongoing saga of interpersonal drama amongst the students. He was now sure that the teachers of the school were far better informed about who was dating who and who was cheating on who than even the nosiest gossip amongst the students.

Unfortunately, the life and times of Todd County High wasn't particularly helpful in solving their case. Instead, he decided it was time to ask some direct questions. He started with Linda as she was foisting paperwork off on him. As he hefted a pile of papers, he said, "I understand there've been a number of tragedies in the last year."

Linda didn't say anything, electing to continue scribbling on a sheet of paper.

Sam cleared his throat and tried again. "Has there been any information on who might be doing all this?"

Linda scowled up at him. "I get that the rest of the staff's main hobby is gossiping like five year old girls, but I'm not in the habit of speculating and I'm certainly not interested in joining in on the schoolwide finger pointing."

Sam frowned, changing tacks. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything like that. I just didn't know who to ask. It seemed like a sensitive topic and I figured you'd probably have the clearest picture of what had happened. I don't like trying to answer student questions when I don't have all the facts."

Linda sighed and leaned back in the old arm chair she had claimed for her desk chair. It took a long time, but she finally said, "I don't know much. There have been four disappearances and all the police can tell us is that it happened on school property during the middle of the day, around lunch time. There just hasn't been enough evidence to draw any conclusions."

"Did you know the students?"

"Most of them. What the police won't tell you is that they were all from difficult families."

"What do you mean? Abusive?"

"A couple of them. One had just lost her mother and was being sent to live with her semi-estranged father. One boy was taking care of his siblings until their aunt could take custody of the younger ones, all while going to school, working two jobs, and applying for college. One was in a physically abusive situation that none of us could prove. Alex, the most recent student, was blatantly ignored. He'd been raising himself since he was a baby."

Sam wasn't sure what to say. When he didn't respond, the tiny woman continued, "You understand that each of these kids is my responsibility. They depend on me, and the other teachers, and now you. If I find out you've taken advantage of any of them, I will protect them and no one will ever ask questions."

Sam felt a bit of the same respect he'd had for Ms. Albrite all those years ago. He met her eye and said, "I understand."

"You better."

"No, I do. I was never in a situation like that, but I know what it was like to need the stability of school. Believe me, I would never intentionally jeopardize that for someone else."

Something about Linda's expression softened. "Who was it?"

"Sorry, what?"

"Who made a difference for you?"

Sam shrugged, suddenly embarrassed for sharing so much of himself with a near stranger. "I had a guidance counselor once who convinced me that I was more than the expectations that got put on me. I owe her a lot, and I never got the chance to thank her."

Linda didn't respond. She gave the tiniest nod and went back to her writing.

_._

_Sam stood in the doorway to Ms. Albrite's office. She glanced up and smiled at him. "Hello, Sam. Come on in and take a seat. Close the door behind you."_

_Sam did as she asked, pushing the door closed before slumping into the chair. In the long list of things he could be doing with his lunch period on a Friday afternoon, this was about the last thing he would chose. _

_Sam didn't say anything as he sat there. He fiddled with a loose thread at the hem of his shirt. He'd noticed a couple of weeks ago that it was looking more than a little short and definitely worn in several places. If he kept growing he wouldn't be able to keep stealing Dean's old clothes. _

_After several long minutes, Ms. Albrite broke the silence. "How are you today?"_

"_Fine," Sam said. _

"_Good, any big plans for this weekend?"_

_Sam shrugged. He was helping with the research for a hunt and he fully expected to be tied up with that until well into the early hours of Monday morning. "Not really."_

_They sat in the uncomfortable silence for a moment. Ms. Albrite didn't seem to mind it. Finally, she said, "I talked to your previous school."_

_Sam made a noncommittal noise in lieu of actually responding to that announcement. _

"_They mentioned that you were doing advanced course work there."_

_Sam shrugged. He had been. _

"_I'd like to let you sit the tests and maybe get you into classes that are more on your level. You've got to be bored if you're coming from Anatomy & Physiology to Bio 100."_

"_It doesn't really matter. It's an easier course load."_

"_Was the course load too much for you at your previous school? Mrs. Harding had nothing but good things to say. Mentioned you were top of your class while you were there."_

"_I've got enough on my plate without the extra classes."_

"_What else do you have going on?"_

"_Nothing," Sam said using the same carefully neutral voice he had during their last conversation._

_She frowned. "Sam, do you know what my job is?"_

"_Aren't you here to advise about classes and stuff?"_

"_Close. I am of course available to help students understand their options while they're here, but I'm also the college counselor for the school. It's my job to make sure you're setting yourself up for success after high school. I can help advise you about classes, extracurriculars, and special programs. Even if you decide you don't want to go to school, I can help you put together a resume, get references, or even help you prepare for job interviews. But in order to understand what you want and how to help, you have to talk to me."_

_Sam stared up at her. Finally, he said, "I already told you. I'm going into the family business."_

_She sat back in her seat and sighed. "Remember last time I asked if you could be anything, what would it be?"_

"_It doesn't matter," Sam said, growing frustrated. "What I want to do isn't as important as what I have to do. My father has expectations of me and my brother, and it's important work. It keeps people safe."_

"_Sam, forget about your father and your brother for a minute. I want you to imagine going into this family business. Really think about it. You leave school and you take that up and you do it for the next twenty years. Will it make you happy? Will it be satisfying or fulfilling?"_

_Sam huffed and turned to look out the window. The whole thing was stupid and pointless. He didn't have a choice. But what she'd said had been running through his mind for ages now. He knew it would be a miserable existence. More horror. More long nights and rough motels. More killing. _

_Sam didn't want to be a killer._

.

That night as the brothers were catching each other up, Sam relayed the information he'd learned from Linda. "I think we need to be on the lookout for particularly at risk kids."

Dean grunted, cutting into his meatloaf. "What makes you think that?" The words came out stilted and oddly businesslike.

Sam watched as Dean shoved the thick piece into his mouth and grimaced, missing the easy conversations they used to have. Dean hadn't looked at him once since they'd sat down and Sam was struggling to keep his emotions in check.

"The other counselor knew the kids who got abducted. Said they all came from rough backgrounds. Seems like a place to start anyway."

"Yeah, well. While you were playing babysitter, I took a little hike in the woods bordering the school property. One set of tracks leading into the area and two leaving. There were signs of struggling, but it looks like the kids walked it, albeit involuntarily."

Dean cast a glance around. When he knew nobody was watching, he pulled out a rag and tossed it onto the table. "Looks like it is our type of case after all."

Sam took the rag gingerly, pulling it across to him by the corner of the fabric. He pulled the edge back just enough to see the rough tear of skin where the ear that was currently wrapped in a grease rag should have been attached to a head. Thick slime oozed around it.

Sam pushed it back across the table, suddenly less interested in his spaghetti.

Dean picked it up and tucked it back in the inside of his jacket. He went back to inhaling his meatloaf, pausing just long enough to say, "I really hate shape shifters."

Sam picked at the noodles on the plate. "Yeah," he said.

_._

_Ms. Albrite interrupted his thoughts, "The only one who has to approve of your choices is you, Sam. It's your life. You have to live it. You can either love it or hate it, but your opinion is what matters here."_

"_But my dad –"_

"_Is a very important part of your life, but he isn't you. He has his own life with his own wants and needs. This is about yours. In the end, you decide what you want your life to stand for. So, what do you want to do?"_

_Sam curled in on himself, hugging his knees up to his chest. "I want to go to school," he whispered. _

_Ms. Albrite nodded. "All right then. If that's what you want, that's what we'll focus on. But Sam, know that you can go into the family business if you want. Or you can run away and join the circus. Just choose it because you want it, not because someone told you to want it."_

"_No, I want to go to college. I have for a long time, but I'm scared."_

"_Of what?" She asked, gently._

"_My family."_

"_Sam, I need to ask. Is everything okay at home? Anything going on that I should know about?"_

_Sam jerked, startled out of his thoughts. "What? No! No, nothing like that. This has been all my dad could talk about, all he did since I was a baby. My brother idolizes him. They'll never let me go. They'll both be so pissed."_

"_I can't tell you what the right answer is. Just that you have to choose it for yourself. You family might not understand, and I'm not going to lie to you. This whole process can be very, very difficult. For now, we'll see what we can do to get you ready, then when you're more comfortable with the idea, we can talk about it and find a way to talk to your family. You've got time Sam. Application deadlines don't happen until your senior year. That gives you plenty of room to explore and see if that's really the right option for you."_

_Sam nodded. "Okay."_

_Ms. Albrite beamed. "Great. So, if you've been thinking about this for a while, any idea what you might want to go to school for?"_

"_Maybe. It might be cool to be a lawyer. I'd like to help people, still." Just without all the blood and gore. _

"_That's going to be a lot of hard work. It takes years and years of hard study."_

"_I know."_

"_Then let's talk about how to make it happen." _

.

Things changed between him and Linda after their brief conversation the day before. She wasn't nearly as short with him and she seemed to be willing to give him a chance with the students, which is why he found himself in an impromptu counselling session.

He'd been watering the plants in his window. The previous occupant had filled the window sill with them and he was growing fond of them.

"Mr. Wilson?"

Sam turned, hearing his name. A kid was hovering in his doorway. The boy was tall and lanky with dark hair falling into his eyes. Sam smiled at him, trying to put him at ease. He was standing, fidgeting with something in his pocket.

Sam smiled. "Hey there. Come on in."

The boy moved into the room proper. He had the oddly gaunt appearance that teen boys got when they'd spent the last few months growing like weeds.

Sam gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk as he pushed aside the pile of paperwork he'd been sorting through on his desk. "I'm sorry, you're going to have to bear with me. I'm still a little behind on learning everyone's name."

The kid cleared his throat and gave him a soft smile. "Justin."

Sam nodded. "Well Justin, what can I do for you?"

"Miss Rodriguez said I should come talk to you."

"Okay. Anything in particular I can help you with?"

Justin shrugged. He stared down at his hands. "I want to go to college." It came out as barely a whisper.

Sam leaned forward over his desk a bit. "That's great! It's a really big decision. Have you given any thought to where you might want to go or what you want to major in?"

Justin shook his head.

"Okay. That's all right. There's a lot you can do to get ready to go to school even if you're not sure what you want to do yet."

Justin glanced up at him, cautious hope in his eyes. "Really?"

Sam grinned at him. "Sure! You're first year or two is mostly general education credits that you have to take before you can really start working on the classes for your major."

Justin shifted in his seat. "You really think I could do it?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't see why not. What grade are you in now?"

"I'm a sophomore."

Sam waived a hand. "Plenty of time then. Can I ask what made you decide you want to go?"

Justin shifted in his seat. "My Dad always said I should do what he does. We have something of a family business and he wants me and my siblings to go into that, but I don't really want to. I don't want to disappoint him, but I don't want to live my whole life the way he did."

Sam stared at the kid. He remembered sitting in an office very much like this one and saying something a hell of a lot like what Justin just had. Sam took a moment to really think through what he wanted to say.

Finally he nodded and said, "Justin, if there's one thing I've learned, it's that you are the only one who knows what's right for you. You have to be happy with your life, because you are the one living it. If going to college is what's best for you, then do that. If your family really loves you, and I'd bet they do, they'll come around. Things have a way of turning out when you least expect them to."

"Dad says I'll never make it into a good school. He says I'm not smart enough."

"I very much doubt that. The fact that you're here, and you're asking so early, means that we can pretty much get you where you need to be, no matter what you're grades are." Sam took a moment to pull up the appropriate records and glance through them. "Justin, you have a high B average. That's great. Looking at these grades, it wouldn't take much to pull you up to an A at all. You're doing fine. Plus, there's always the application essay and your resume. What sort of things do you do outside of school?"

"Well, I like hiking. And I've always wanted to be an artist. I have some sketches I've done."

"Art is a good place to start, you have a fine arts elective coming up and there's an art club that meets on Thursdays after school. I understand it's a bit like a student critique group, but with outings to museums and some community service opportunities. Also keep in mind that you don't have to do any of that, the important thing is to pick something you love and figure out a way to make it work for you."

"What did you do?"

Sam smiled. "My father was very strict. I didn't have the option to do a lot in school, but I did get to do a fair bit of urban exploring, this was before it had a name mind you. And he taught me and my brother Latin. I got a nice little scholarship for my language skills and my personal essay was about staying the night in a haunted house."

"Do you really think I can do all this?"

"Of course I do. You're already well on your way."

Justin rose and gave Sam a tentative smile. "Thanks, Mr. Wilson."

"You're welcome," Sam said, warmly. "Don't be a stranger."

Justin left quickly after nodding. He heard Linda speaking with him as he came down the hall, but he didn't try too hard to hear what they said.

Over the next week, Justin became a semi-regular visitor in Sam's office. He took every piece of advice seriously and asked more questions than Sam had really expected. Together they put together a plan for the rest of Justin's sophomore year. By the end of the week, he seemed a little bit less timid. Sam was sad to think that it wouldn't be long before he would have to leave. He actually cared what happened to the kid. He would just have to concentrate on doing as much for him as he could in the time they had together.

.

Sam had been at the school for three weeks when Dean announced, "I've found the lair," over another diner dinner. Sam made a noncommittal noise of acknowledgement, but was otherwise preoccupied. Justin had missed his normal post lunch check in and Sam was a little worried.

"Figure if we go straight there after this, we can knock this thing out tonight and be done with this town."

Sam glanced up at the tone in Dean's voice. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Come on, Sam. This one's taking too long. It's been almost a month and we're no closer to solving it. It's time for it to be over. I'm ready to be gone. We should be on the road again."

"Going where? It's not like we have a hard deadline on anything and with no word on what's going down, we're just as well to sit tight for a while."

Dean grunted. "I get that you like you're cushy side job, but we've got bigger fish to fry."

Sam scowled down at his plate, biting his tongue before he could say anything. Dean stood and threw a few bills on the table before turning and walked out, leaving Sam to trail after him. He took perverse pleasure in finishing every last bite on his plate before he finally followed Dean out. If he was going monster hunting, he was going to do it on a full stomach.

Dean was waiting in the car, playing on his cellphone. As Sam climbed in, the engine roared to life, and they made their way through the town to the high school. They parked just beyond the school on the street across from an old, Victorian style house that had seen better days. Without speaking, they collected their weapons before heading off around the school.

Dean led the way, out and around the edge of the school fence, skirting it all the way around to the back. As the football field came into view, they cut out diagonally, following a narrow path through the underbrush. Sam could see a handful of stray footprints as they went. The dirt was soft, almost muddy, and the impressions stood out. How the police hadn't found it, he'd never fathom.

They cut away from the trail after nearly a mile of walking and started switching up a short hill to the base of a short, limestone bluff. Set against the base, just beyond a sluggish creak, was a low cave. Dean gestured toward the mouth of the cave and motioned for Sam to follow him in and branch to the right.

Sam nodded and together they made their way to the opening. This was the seamless teamwork Sam missed. They moved together like one person. It was in moments like this that Sam could forget all the things that lay between them, Hell, demon blood, Lilith, and Lucifer. They were just Sam-and-Dean, two pieces of a whole.

When they reached the mouth, Sam hugged the right wall as they entered. They'd been making their way in darkness, but inside there wasn't enough moonlight to see by. Sam heard the click of Dean's torch just as the cave was flooded with yellow light. Sam blinked once to clear his eyes.

The cave was smaller than he'd expected, more of a circular room than a true cave. Several irregular bundles were laying against the back wall. Sam clicked on his own light and shined the beam at the odd shapes. It took a second for his brain to process what he was seeing.

The missing kids. There were four figures huddled together, all chained to a ring that had been driven high into the back wall of the cave. Sam took a step closer and realized that he'd miscounted. There were five. Justin's dirt smudged face turned towards the light. His eyes slitted open and he hissed at the direct light. Sam pointed his light lower and took a couple of cautious steps forward. "Justin?" He whispered.

Justin squinted, coming a little more aware at his name. He slurred out, "Mr. Wilson?"

Sam sagged with relief and moved over to him, taking his chin in his hand and angling it so he could see a little better. Justin's eyes were bloodshot, but otherwise seemed to be reacting to the light. "Hang in there, Justin. We're going to get you out."

"I missed the lunch meeting."

Sam laughed a little. "Yeah, but it's fine. We can make it up. Hold still while we get you loose."

Sam turned to the ring on the wall. It was set high so wandering hands wouldn't be able to reach it. Sam doubted if he would be able to either. He gave the chains an experimental pull anyway. The ring was lodged tight.

He cast a glance over his shoulder to find Dean keeping lookout at the mouth of the cave. "Dean, I'm going to need some help. You've got the lock pick set."

Dean grunted and moved to stand beside him. Kneeling down, he inspected the manacles that had been fastened onto the boy's wrists. "Probably easier to just break it."

"Sorry, left my crowbar in my other pants."

Dean snorted, but fished his picks from his jacket and set to work. It was a matter of seconds before he had the locks open. Justin stared up at them. "They haven't moved."

Sam looked over at the other kids. In the dim, yellow light it was hard to make anything out. He reached out to the closest and laid a finger on his neck. He breathed a sigh of relief when he felt a pulse. The boy stirred under his hand, but didn't show any signs of being conscious.

"Dean," he said as he moved on to the next. The girl laying next in line started screaming the moment his hand touched her. He jerked and stumbled back away from her. Her noise woke everyone else up. In a matter of seconds, four more pairs of eyes were trained on Sam. He tried to make himself seems as nonthreatening as possible.

"Hey there," he said in a low, steady voice. "My brother and I are here to help you. We're going to get you out of here, but we need you to be as quiet as possible."

Dean settled beside the girl, trying to get her to hold still long enough to get the restraints off of her. "Damnit," he muttered. "Just hold still."

A moment later, all the children went completely motionless. Sam spun, feeling the small hairs at the nape of his neck rising. A hulking figure stood silhouetted in the opening.

"Leave my family alone!" A deep voice boomed.

Sam swung into the habitual posture, gun drawn and aimed, flashlight resting just above the barrel so that he could see what he was shooting at. The figure in the doorway was fast. Before Sam could get his gun aimed, he had tackled Sam with the full force of a linebacker.

In the background, he could hear Dean shouting his name, but his focus was solely on finding the upper hand against the mountain currently pinning him to the floor. Sam was tall and quick, which usually gave him the advantage in fights. He wasn't a slouch either. He had quite a bit of strength, but it was only good if he could get the leverage to use it.

His opportunity came when his attacker shifted his hold to put pressure on his windpipe by laying a big, meaty arm across his neck. Sam sprang when he did. He wrenched his arm free and slammed the edge of his hand into the shapeshifter's neck, sending him reeling back. As soon as he was free of Sam, several shots rang out. Sam jumped up to get a better view of what was happening.

The shapeshifter was snarling. Dean's shot had gone wide and grazed the shapeshifter's head. With a roar, the thing had charged in Dean's direction. Sam scrambled for his dropped gun. With two quick shots, the shapeshifter pitched forward and went limp, directly into Dean's chest. Dean grunted and stumbled back under the unexpected weight. With a grimace, he shoved the lifeless body off him. Sam registered dimly that the girl was screaming again.

"Really, Sammy? You had to drop him _on_ me?"

Sam grunted and tucked his gun away. "You're welcome."

Dean nodded. As Sam approached the kids, Dean slipped him the picks and began dragging the body out and away. Sam dropped to his knees next to the girl, shushing her. She curled away from him but went blessedly quiet when he approached her. He managed to get her free and made quick work of the other two, a boy and a girl. The group of them were filthy and gaunt, but they looked up at Sam with awe and a little fear.

Justin was the first to act. He cleared his throat and stood on shaky legs. "Is it over?"

Sam didn't try to approach him, but he nodded. "It's over."

Justin gave a shaky laugh. "He could change his face. I saw him do it."

"I know. He was a shapeshifter."

Justin nodded calmly. Sam knew he didn't have long before the hysterics set in and the poor kid lost it. Justin straightened the rest of the way up and tilted his head, regarding Sam. "You're not really a guidance counsellor, are you?"

Sam snorted. He motioned for Justin to help him get the other kids on their feet. "Let's get you lot back to civilization, then you can worry about my credentials."

Justin pulled the boy who had been next to him to his feet. The kid seemed to be able to stand under his own steam. The girl could stand, but she would need help to walk, judging by the way she favored her ankle. "I need you to help her," Sam said to Justin.

"Dean!" Sam called, taking in their last two charges. Neither one looked like they would be able to stand, much less walk.

Dean jogged in a few moments later. "What? I've got to finish this before someone comes up here."

"We'll have to risk it. We need to get the kids down now. We're going to have to carry some."

Dean grunted. "Fine. Give me five minutes and we can go."

Dean ducked back out and Sam was left standing in an awkward silence with the teens. Finally, Dean came back, covered in dirt and grim faced. "Who can't walk?"

Sam gestured at the boy and girl left curled up on the floor. Dean scooped up the girl, and Sam followed behind, settling the unconscious boy in a fireman's carry. "It's a little over a mile," he said to the group. "I know you're tired, but the sooner we make our way down, the sooner you can rest."

The hike down was slow, but went relatively quickly. No one said anything as they picked their way in the dark. When at last the chain link fence around the school came back into view, Sam felt himself begin to relax.

They made it to the street and settled the teens on the curb. Dean pulled Sam aside just far enough that they wouldn't be overheard. "Call an ambulance, I'm going to head back up and finish this before the cops get wind of it."

Sam nodded. "Be careful. As far as we know he was working alone, but that doesn't mean anything."

Dean shrugged and started back down the side path. "Meet you at the room," he called back over his shoulder.

Sam took a moment to compose himself before he pulled out his phone and dialed 9-1-1. The rest of the night was a blur. He had to give his statement to about twenty different people before he finally managed to escape and head back to the hotel. Fortunately he'd had one of his FBI business cards tucked in his wallet and managed to bluff his way through by saying he'd been undercover on the case of a serial kidnapper. It was thin, but it wasn't likely anyone would call to check his story until the next morning, which would give him plenty of time to cover his tracks.

When he stumbled into the room, Dean was passed out face down on his bed. Sam tip-toed past him and sank into his own bed, not even bothering to shed his filthy clothes. He was asleep in a matter of seconds.

.

Sam had to beg to get Dean to hang around for another day, but he had unfinished business. When he stepped into the guidance office, he was met by a towering Linda Rodriguez. She reared back and smacked him across the cheek.

"That was for lying to me."

The next second he was caught up in a hug, pressed uncomfortably against her swollen belly, and bent almost in two so she could wrap her arms around him. When she let him go, she stepped back and sniffed. "That was for bringing them home."

Sam stood, staring at her. He nodded warily, afraid to say anything. Instead, she said, "Does this mean you're leaving?"

"Yeah. My partner and I are heading out tonight. I wanted to talk to Justin before I left though."

Linda's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"I just want him to know that I meant everything I said."

She nodded and waived him off down the hall. "He's in your office. He's been waiting for almost ten minutes now."

Sam sighed and made his way back. Sure enough, Justin was sitting in his usually chair. Sam smiled and closed the door behind him, letting it fall shut noisily. Justin jumped and turned to stare at him over the back of his chair. "Mr. Wilson!"

Sam smiled at him and moved around to sit behind the desk. "Justin. I figured you'd at least get a couple days off from school."

"Yeah. Dad wants me home for the next week at least."

"How are you feeling?"

Justin shrugged. "A little sore, but I'm fine. Barely a scratch."

"That's good." They fell into a quiet lull.

Finally Justin said, "Mr. Wilson, I wanted to know, did you really mean all that? I know you were under cover, but…"

Sam sat forward. "Justin, I need you to listen very carefully to me." He waited until Justin made eye contact. "I meant every single word I said. I know I haven't know you very long, but from what I see, you are a smart, capable young man. If you want to go to college, I have no doubt you will."

Justin's eyes had gone suspiciously bright. Sam smiled at him, aware that it was probably a little sappy for a fifteen year old boy. On a whim, Sam pulled out one of his business cards and jotted down his email on the back. "Here," he said holding out the card. "I know I'm not an actual guidance counsellor, but if you ever have any questions you can email me. I do a lot of travelling for work, so I'm not always quick about responding, but I'd like to hear how things are going for you."

There was a short knock at the door before Linda stuck her head in. "Justin, your father is here to pick you up."

Justin stood, tucking the card into his pocket. "Thanks, Mr. Wilson."

Sam just nodded as he left.

Linda gave him a strange look as he stood as well. He grabbed up the few items he had accumulated over his month long stay and made his way over to the door. With a grin, he grabbed Linda into a sideways hug. "Thanks."

He let go and vanished down the hallway before she could retaliate. He didn't bother to stop by the principal's office on his way out, instead heading straight for the sleek, black Impala waiting for him. As he slid into the car, he couldn't help but hope that maybe Justin would get the chance that Sam never had.


End file.
